


All Soul's Day

by CopperBeech



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cultural Differences, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Humor, Odo Is Good With Kids, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperBeech/pseuds/CopperBeech
Summary: Starfleet’s encouragement of cultural exchange between its member planets means a night of Earth-style Halloween celebrations on Deep Space Nine. Reception varies.It was mostly white, what there was of it, and Leeta dangled it between finger and thumb approximately as one might dangle the desiccated carcass of a month-dead Cardassian vole.“This – outfit. Am I supposed to wear it? What’s it for?”“It’s some Earth festival. The children put on costumes and knock on doors and ask for candy, and the Hew-mons give it to them. I don’t see the profit in it, but Captain wants it, who am I to argue?”“How does this figure in?”“Well, after the kids are put to bed, the adults put on costumes. Drink a lot. And then they get put to bed.” Quark plucked a row of orange-and-purple glasses out of the replicator. “That part, I see the profit. See if it fits. It’s a naughty nurse costume.”“Nurse?”“I don’t know. Apparently it's traditional."
Relationships: Benjamin Sisko & Jake Sisko, Elim Garak & Benjamin Sisko, Jadzia Dax/Worf, Kira Nerys & Benjamin Sisko, Kira Nerys & Kai Opaka, Leeta/Rom (Star Trek), Miles O'Brien & Worf, Nog & Jake Sisko
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	All Soul's Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first DS9-exclusive fic, though I've done Good Omens crossovers with [Our Man Crowley](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937256) and [From Soho, With Love. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078145/chapters/57950014) The action here takes place between s5e5, "The Assignment," and s5e6, "Trials and Tribble-ations."
> 
> I wrote this for myself, really, more than one usually does that is, because this year -- amid so much fear and unnecessary death -- the usual skeletons and tombstones on nearby lawns, the fun-scary decorations, feel a little less amusing than they normally do. Like Kira and Worf, I'm having some trouble with it. I'd like to be a little more like Nog and Jadzia here. Join me.

“This is a ritual for children?” said Kira, puzzling over the slideshow infographic from Starfleet’s Cultural Relations Office. Something about it had bothered her enough to ask the Captain if they could speak privately in his ready room.

“More of a… custom, Major. A tradition.”

“Children below a certain age, on a specific night of the year, dress as the evil and malevolent spirits of your culture.”

“Of _some_ Earth cultures. We’re a bit more, let’s say, diversified than Bajor. Starker differences in planetary terrain, climate, our nations developed in more insular pockets. Assimilation is still occurring.”

“And they go from residence to residence, demanding a tribute of food with a formulaic incantation, and threaten mayhem if denied.”

“The mayhem is pretty subjunctive, Major. Meaning if we catch them, there are consequences.” Sisko smiled reminiscently. “Mind you, where I grew up, the adults get into a lot of trouble too.” For a moment his face was free of the worry lines that had begun to carve into it. “No one does it like my home town.”

“We take the Pagh-wraiths a lot more seriously than this, captain.”

“So did Earth, once. The difference is that our Pagh-wraiths didn’t exist, and literal belief in them caused harm.”

“So you _assume_.”

“By now, it’s more about making light of our fears. Learning to live with them. Just a part of the social contract.”

“It’s a ritual,” said Kira in a done-discussing-it tone, shutting off the display on her PADD.

“I hope this won’t make you uncomfortable, Major _._ It’s something for the families with children who are bravely remaining on this station, and it seems to make adults smile as well. I think we need a little of that right now.”

“Very good, sir,” said Kira in the tone that always meant _this is not good at all._

 _“_ Anyone who wants to participate can place one of these outside their door in the Habitat Ring. Or their office,” he added, lifting a small replicated jack-o-lantern with a flickering light inside. “Anyone who doesn’t, won’t be bothered. If you wish to spend the time in the shrine, I’ll understand.”

* * *

“I was raised on Earth, but my family did not observe this practice.”

“Didn’t any of your friends, then?”

“I did not require friends.”

“Why am I not surprised?” sighed Miles, tipping up his pint. Worf was already half through his nightly glass of prune juice. “I suppose you never ate candy either.”

“Earth confections are strong intoxicants to the Klingon metabolism, unsuitable for those below the age of manhood. I do not understand their association with the spirits of the dead.”

“You performed the _ak’toh_ with me for Quique, after Torga.”

“Ensign Muniz died a hero. He earned passage to Sto-vo-kor. I do not see the connection.”

“And where his mother comes from, they make skulls out of sugar for the children to eat. Goes on three days. People set up pictures of their family who’ve died, lay out a dinner or take a picnic to the cemetery, talk to ’em, catch ’em up on who got married or went off to school or had a kid. Pretty good bet that Quique’s relatives are putting his holo on the _ofrenda_ right around now.”

Worf appeared to be reading the auspices in the dregs of his prune juice.

“I will review the information about this festival. Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Dax will observe the more dignified customs with me. She has a warrior spirit and will have no interest in this costumed foolishness.”

 ****

* * *

“Well, Old Man, you seem to be getting into the spirit of it.”

Jadzia had replicated a pair of jack o’lantern earrings, and pinned her hair back with little bat barrettes.

“When have I ever run away from a party?”

“There’s a party?”

“When has Quark ever run away from _throwing_ a party?”

“A … hmmm. Thanks for bringing this to my attention.”

“Benjamin?”

* * *

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Quark barely looked up.

It was mostly white, what there was of it, and Leeta dangled it between finger and thumb approximately as one might dangle the desiccated carcass of a month-dead Cardassian vole.

“This – outfit. Am I supposed to wear it? What’s it for?”

“That’s for tonight's party. Try it on, in case you need to make _adjustments.”_

Only Quark could make the word _adjustments_ sound like the title of an especially pornographic holosuite program.

“It’s some Earth festival. The children put on costumes and knock on doors and ask for candy, and the Hew-mons give it to them. I don’t see the profit in it, but Captain wants it, who am I to argue?”

“How does this figure in?”

“Well, after the kids are put to bed, the _adults_ put on costumes. Drink a lot. And then _they_ get put to bed.” Quark plucked a row of orange-and-purple glasses out of the replicator. “ _That_ part, I see the profit. See if it fits. It’s a naughty nurse costume.”

_“Nurse?”_

“I don’t know. Apparently it's traditional. Dr. Bashir might like it.”

“Julian and I are completing the Ritual Of Separation. We’re going to conclude it next month on Risa.”

“Well, _someone_ might like it – good afternoon, Captain.”

“Mr. Quark. I understand we’re having a party.”

“There’s always a party at Quark’s.”

“A _Halloween_ party. I’m pleased to hear you’ve engaged with this little bit of cultural outreach. You are aware that the children will be trick-or-treating the Promenade.”

“And?”

“You’re on the Promenade, Mr. Quark.”

“You want me to give away candy? Nuh-uh. The Ferengi Commerce Authority – “

“I’m sure you’re expecting a lot of profit from the party later.”

“Lots, especially if Leeta puts that on.”

Leeta belatedly attempted to roll the scanty white halter and hot pants into an unidentifiable ball.

“Then you can put the candy distribution on your ledger as an expense. I’m sure you can make it add up. A bit like you made that shipment of proscribed Altairian brandy disappear.”

“That was for a special customer. They paid well and took it right off the station.”

“Well then, Mr. Quark. It’s good to hear your business is prospering. You should have no trouble paying an employee to hand out a little candy.”

Quark surrendered, gesturing with a PADD. “All right, all right, do I give it to them before or after they shout Boo? It says here – “

“Boo?” This was Leeta.

“It’s one of the ritual incantations.” Quark thrust the PADD at her. “Here, go read up. You can wear the costume.”

“For the adults,” said Sisko, and took his leave.

* * *

“ _C’mon_ , Nog, let’s decide who we’re gonna be. I haven’t done this in years.”

“We are over the approved age for this observance. It would be inappropriate.”

“One semester at the Academy and you’re a total killjoy.”

“Taking advantage of a children’s festival in order to obtain sweets would be unbecoming to a Starfleet Officer.”

“It’s not about the candy, Nog! It’s about dressing up and – seeing other people dress up and – yeah, some of it’s about the candy. Come on, you could pass for ten. My Dad – “

“ _Captain Sisko_ would not be happy.”

“I was going to say how my dad told me about doing it back in NOLA. The year he turned fifteen he took a whole group of littler kids out dressed as a Gorn. _I_ know, _I_ _know,_ got it – ”

“I’m not going to get any peace, am I?”

“It’s the perfect costume, Nog. Perfect. _Perfect._ I’ll even use my replicator points. And we’ll go to Quark’s after. Best of both worlds.”

* * *

“Constable. I’d never have known you without your uniform.”

“Ah – Captain. Technically I’m not on duty, but – _only_ the doors with an illuminated vegetable, young master Adara – “

“Well, who are you, now?”

A very large, very round pair of eyes gazed up at Sisko from the approximate height of his knee. The costume appeared to represent a victim of the notorious M-113 salt-sucker, round welts drawn on pale cheeks with some unidentified cosmetic.

“Their parents are all on shift tonight -- _say thank you, Colin_ \-- Since I am not, I thought that, as a matter of station security, it would be appropriate for me to accompany them – stay with the group, Yumiko.”

“This must be a trial of even your legendary patience.”

“Be a bird again, Odo?” came from somewhere closer to the height of Sisko’s waist. The Constable briefly fluttered into the shape of a Tarkalean hawk, then blurred back into the familiar, vague features.

“I thought you didn’t like being asked to transform.”

“It’s different with children, Captain. There is no mockery in their delight – ”

“ _Prank or bribe!”_

“That’s _Trick or Treat_ – “

“Oh _,_ _look_ – isn’t he cute!”

“I will commend you to the Divine Treasury, madam!”

“And – aren’t _you_ a little big?”

“I’m just taking him around safely – “

“ _Cadet Nog? Jake?”_

“Captain! I can explain! – I am still a Ferengi, and if an opportunity for profit – I mean – I can’t explain.”

“ _Jake, is that my baseball??”_

“I replicated one – “

“And the uniform.” The London Kings livery was exact, down to the royal-blue catcher’s glove. “A little old for this, aren’t you?”

Jake’s eyes dropped. “I only got to do it twice.”

“Well. I’ll expect a feature we can run in the station newsletter.”

“ _Sure.”_

“And a holo of you two in the costumes – pace yourself, Cadet, if you haven’t had candy corn before – ”

“Captain, I will accept any disciplinary action you assign without question – “

“As you were, Cadet. Just don’t eat all of it at once.”

* * *

“Jadzia, do not go. This is shameful.”

“It’s _fun,_ Worf.”

“A festival rooted in honoring the dead should not become _fun.”_

“It’s a way of laughing at Death. I can’t think of anything more Klingon.”

“Fiercely. And with joy. Not as one might at one of Doctor Bashir’s puerile disports.”

“For the last time, I am _not_ interested in him.”

“I am sure he will be at this party at Quark’s. Dressed in some foolish way, as he enjoys.”

“Yeah. You know what, Worf? He will. And so will Miles, when he finishes taking Molly around. And so will the rest of my friends. _Your_ friends. If you want to sit here on the Defiant with a bat’leth up your butt and mope around because other people are having a good time, knock yourself out.”

“Jadzia – “

“See you later with some candy. If I don’t eat it all.”

* * *

Sisko paused on the Promenade for a long moment; finally, tapped his commbadge. “Constable?”

“Here, Captain.”

“Sorry to interrupt your enjoyment, but be alert. I’m not sure what’s happening at Mr. Garak’s. He hasn’t displayed the welcome token, but his shop’s open. And dark.”

 _Dark_ didn’t quite describe it. The shop’s lighting was always a little dim, soft and flattering; now only intermittent flickers played on the ceiling from somewhere far in the back.

“You know how uncomfortable it makes me when he does anything odd.”

“I am in full sympathy, Captain.”

“Most likely it’s nothing. I’ll report."

Sisko stepped inside. In the recesses of the shop, where Garak customarily stocked accessories and ornaments – no culture considered an outfit complete without some frippery – there was a row of holoframes, each displaying a portrait. Some appeared to be candid shots without the subject’s knowledge, some seemed to be studio portraits or ID holos. Most were Cardassian, but one was Romulan, and two were – or looked – Bajoran.

Garak stood to one side, arranging a row of votives in front of the gallery, nudging them into positions only some secret sense of order in his own mind seemed to demand.

Being Garak, he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Good evening, Captain,” he said. “To what do I owe your visit to my humble establishment?”

“I saw the light,” said Sisko. “Or rather I didn’t see a light. I was concerned.”

“Admirable, Captain, but I think we know I can take care of myself.” A brief silence as he moved a last candle one millimeter to the left. “Have I done it right?"

“Have you done what – “ began Sisko, realizing half way through the sentence that he didn’t need to ask the question.

“It’s my _ofrenda,_ Captain. This custom of honoring the dead by displaying their images. I have been following the station updates about this Earth festival with interest – after all, no intelligence is ever wasted – and it seemed to me that this element of the observance had some value.”

“These don’t look like your relations.”

“In the absence of any relatives I would wish to identify, I chose the holograms of others who have been important to me.”

“Professional – colleagues? Fellow – “ _spies, traitors – ?_

“Oh, no, Captain. These are the images of people I have killed.”

He folded his hands on the counter, gazing at all of the holoportraits and none of them.

“I’ll leave you, Mr. Garak.”

There was no answer. Sisko tapped his commbadge as he stepped out of the flickering dimness into the lights of the Promenade.

“Stand down, Constable.”

* * *

The seventh or eighth contingent of small persons – dressed as Talosians, ghosts, dragons, samurai, Starfleet doctors and holoserial characters – were just turning to leave the entrance of Quark’s, raggedly calling out thanks, when an older, louder voice cut through the babble.

“Make way! Make way for the Grand Nagus Zek!”

Quark froze. “Rom. Look over my shoulder. The Grand Nagus? Here? Now?”

“It, uh, looks like it, brother.”

“Hide me.”

“He looks, ah, really happy.”

“I’m _giving away candy,_ Rom. I’m dead. There’ll be a Liquidator on the way by tomorrow.”

“I, ahhhh, don’t think so, brother. Turn around – “

“Isn’t he _adorable?”_

“I want my picture with him – “

“Lookit his _ears!!!”_

“Just kill me now – you can auction the body – “

Quark froze a second time at the sight of his nephew, sporting a brocaded jacket, a Nagus’ staff and an impressive set of prosthetic lobes, proceeding statelily into the bar and waving to all sides with regal poise.

“Uncle Quark! I require the use of your bar!”

A slightly green color rose in his face.

“Um… at least your waste reclamation unit.”

* * *

“She can’t dress like that! My dad likes her!”

As the stream of children trickled to nothing, Leeta had discarded the cloak and returned to the Dabo wheel.

“That’s how Dabo girls dress. I didn’t mind Mardah dressing like that, it’s a job. Anyway, how do you know?”

“A Ferengi can always tell about another Ferengi, it’s the color of the ears – this is personal stuff.”

“Does she know?”

“No! And you can’t – “

“How do you _know_ she doesn’t know? Let’s ask her. I fixed up my Dad – “

“This is _different_ – “

“Awwww, what a _cute_ little Grand Nagus.” Jake vaguely recognized the Human ensign suddenly occupying Nog’s lap, though the haphazardly applied green body paint made it difficult. “Are these real?” Nog’s artificial lobes were, credibly, larger than any that had ever been seen on the station other than Zek’s own. “Oh – I see – this part is the real ear, it’s warm – but the hair’s fake, isn’t it – “

“Let me explain some things,” said Nog.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Jake.

* * *

“Your heart is troubled, my child.”

Kira didn’t mind being called that when it was Kai Opaka. She couldn’t remember how long she’d meditated in the Temple, or how long they’d been talking – she seemed to be coming into the middle of her own conversation – but the Kai looked as solid and good-humored as ever. Kira had a vague recollection that they had been talking about how much Opaka would enjoy a good jumja stick.

“Am I imagining you?” she said.

“If you like,” said Opaka. “You can’t touch me, for example. Where the Emissary was born, that was the test of resurrection in one of their old holy books. I made a point of reading several.”

“So you’re not real.”

“I am neither real nor unreal, dead nor alive. I am wherever Bajor is. And wherever you are, Bajor travels with you.” The Kai’s smile was kindly. “So tell me, what is your news?”

Kira began to talk about the war, the disputes over Bajor entering the Federation, the Captain’s visions, but Opaka held up a plump hand.

“No, no, daughter.. _your_ news. You were special to me, a brave fighter, a doubting peacemaker. I was sorry not to know you better. You question. I find that good.”

“Kai Winn doesn’t.”

“Of course not. Perhaps Bajor needs single-mindedness just now. But you, Nerys?”

“I – Bareil died. We were together for a time.”

“I’m not surprised. Rebel hearts find one another. You came to love him?”

Kira nodded. “Will I see him, too?”

“That is not for me to know.”

“And – I’m with Shakaar now, but I’m not sure it feels right – and – there was a Vedek who wanted to restore the _d’jarras,_ and I made birds and they were _awfu_ l so you were right about that and – I’m sorry, I’m not making sense.” If you looked at the Kai from certain angles now, you could see the lights of the shrine through the edges of her robes. “I want to love, maybe marry, have children, but all I still seem able to be is a fighter, even Shakaar’s only there because I fought beside him, and there’s _always_ something more to fight – “

“Nerys.”

Kira was beginning to weep messily, and there was nothing to wipe her face on but her sleeve, like a child in truth.

“I said when we parted that you had begun your healing. It does not happen in a day, or a year. It is a journey, not an achievement.”

Kira nodded mutely.

“You’re here now because you are afraid. Because you doubt, and question, as you should.”

“I feel like it’s the only safe place – I know it’s silly, but they let their _children_ pretend to be the Pagh-wraiths of their planet – even after one got onto the _station,_ it’s like asking for – “

“Daughter.” Opaka’s hand reached out, passed through hers.

“One day a Pagh-wraith will enter even into this shrine. That day Death itself will enter here. There is no way to deal with death, or evil, but to dance with them and make them part of the great Purpose. Trust the Prophets.”

She was fading, the shape of the light behind the nave easier to discern now than the outlines of her robes.

“Greet them with laughter. Shame them with hope.”

There was almost nothing left, a filmy shadow.

“And perhaps? Let your hair grow again. It suited your _pagh_.”

* * *

“ _Oooooohhhh!!”_

“Uh, Leeta, are you all right?”

“Just the third time explaining to someone what this outfit is. I don’t know where Quark got the idea.”

“It, uh, looks very pretty on you. You know, ah, most things do.”

“That’s sweet of you, Rom.”

“In fact, nurse, errrr, Leeta, I think I’m feeling a little faint – ”

“Oh, dear, should I call sickbay – _oh_.”

* * *

The door of Sisko’s quarters whished open for Jake. Soft speech was just audible from the interior.

“Dad?”

“In here.”

Sisko sat on the edge of the bed, chin on his laced knuckles, gazing at a holoportrait of Jennifer Sisko that had stayed on his nightstand until Kasidy came into his life. A single, small candle was burning beside it.

“Dad.”

“I was glad to see you two having fun tonight.”

“I’m sorry if I – “

“No. It was good. Did I ever tell you what happened to the Gorn suit?”

“Don’t think so.”

“I took it to the Academy and ran my first fitness test in it. Growing up can be overrated.”

Jake sat down beside him on the coverlet.

“I kept the head through three duty stations until your mom made me throw it out. Kept coming apart in our luggage and leaving scales on everything.”

“I still miss her so much.”

“So do I, son. I’ve been telling her. That, and about Bajor, and the station, and – ”

Jake looked questioningly at his father, at the holoportrait.

“Jen, I want you to see how our boy’s grown up. I think he’s ready to play in the big leagues now. He might even let his old Dad coach.”

Sisko lifted the Kings cap off Jake’s head, put it on his own.

“He introduced me to a lady named Kasidy a little while back. I think you’d like her. I’d let you meet her, but she’s, um… in jail at the moment. It’s complicated.”

Jake snorted in spite of himself.

“I know I like her. It doesn’t change how much I miss you. It never will.”

“She really is nice, Mom – the jail thing was just sort of an accident, and – “ Jake’s voice had broken years ago, but now it jumped an octave. _“Oh, Mom.”_ The next words were almost inaudible against his palm. “ _I love you so much.”_

They held each other for a long time.

Finally Sisko lifted the candle, blew it out. “We’ll be seeing you next year,” he said. Then, to Jake, “Let’s go out to the kitchen and check your haul. Didn’t I see that Andorian woman handing out chocolate Tribbles? I love those.”

* * *

Jadzia got back to her quarters, trailing a few strands of orange confetti, just as a quartet of children – two Humans, a Bolian, and a very grave-looking little Vulcan – issued from the open door, past the replicated pumpkin that she clearly remembered taking inside. The Vulcan turned and separated his fingers in the characteristic salute of his culture.

“Aren’t they up a little late?” she said.

“I have been telling them tales of Gre’thor and the Barge of the Dead,” said Worf. “It required the replication of some additional confections.” He did, in fact, seem slightly unsteady.

“Mmm, _Na’ran_ gumdrops. Give here.”

“I thought you would remain at Quark’s longer.”

“It’s just not as much _fun_ without you.”

“I did some thinking.”

“I see that.”

“We are both warriors. Death sits at our shoulders, and one day it will show us its face. And you and I? We shall laugh. As these children laugh.”

“Um, right now I have a better idea.”

“… _What_ are you attired as?”

_finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Episodes referenced: "The Ship" (s5e3, Ensign Muniz' death), "Battle Lines" (s1e13, Kai Opaka and Kira), "The Assignment" (s5e5, a pagh-wraith on the station).
> 
> If you liked, share, comment, fly your shuttle over to Tumblr @CopperPlateBeech!


End file.
